


Playing in the Rain

by servantofclio



Series: Aderyn Hawke [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke watches her partner and children in the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theherocomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/gifts).



There were times when Hawke missed Fereldan’s weather. It never seemed like a proper winter to her without snow thick on the ground and frost patches on the windows, the way she remembered Lothering; bundling up in wools and furs, flinging snowballs at each other, drinking hot mulled cider and wine beside the fire. In the Free Marches, winters were milder. Kirkwall was often wet in the winter, but seldom cold enough for a real snow. What snow it got turned quickly to grimy slush, turning the streets and steps slick and sloppy. And this year, it was unseasonably warm, warm enough that Hawke had opened the shutters to air out the house, even if it was damp outside. 

The rain had passed, though the sky was still cloudy, leaving the landscape the grey and brown of dead leaves and cobblestones. The rain left a wet sheen on the streets and stone walls, glimmering when the occasional ray of sunshine passed through the cloud layer. 

In the greyness of the day, the brightest thing Hawke could see were her children in their blue jackets and yellow caps, and Fenris’s white head, bending over them as they played. 

Fenris was always graceful, even leaning down to hold Devin’s hands while he danced in a puddle or squatting to see what Eiriel held in her cupped hands. Whether on the battlefield or chasing toddlers, he moved with a bone-deep smoothness and efficiency. He had, doubtless, learned that efficiency at great cost, but Hawke did not care to think of that now. They had both learned that what they had now — their children, together with a little hard-won tranquility and privacy — was worth the effort it had taken. 

Hawke could not see much of Fenris’s face from where she stood at the window, only the edge of his cheek or jaw, though she could hear the deep cadence of his voice mixed with the children’s piping tones. She had to imagine his expression — probably a fond, spare smile, lending the smallest bit of softness to the sharp bones of his face and warming his eyes. He could be the stern father when he had to be, but he softened and gentled around the children more than she had ever seen in the first years of their friendship. With them, he seemed endlessly patient, whether he was reading them the same stories for the twentieth time, or playing in the rain. 

The children, now, they were almost indistinguishable with their mops of untidy dark hair protruding beneath their bright caps. The twins were of a size, and liked dressing alike these days. But Devin got hot faster, and had consequently (and predictably) turned down his collar and undone his jacket rather quickly, while Eiriel kept hers done up, and so it was easier for Hawke to tell which was which. Both of them were bare-handed and bare-footed, jumping in puddles and splashing each other. They were all three going be soaked when they came in, Hawke could tell. 

Hawke’s own mother would have been appalled. She could almost hear Leandra’s voice, scolding that the children were going to catch their death of cold, demanding to know why she was letting them out without bundling them up in boots and mitts. Hawke had learned to pick her battles. It was not worth the effort of arguing with the children about putting their mittens on when they were only going to take them off later. Better to make sure there was a warm fire when they came in, and clean dry towels and clothing, and hot cider to drink. 

Outside, Fenris scooped up one child in each arm and propped Eiriel on his shoulder, and Hawke knew that for her cue. A brief burst of magic stoked the fire and heated the pot of cider to a pleasant warmth, and she went to fetch clean linens from the cupboard before the door opened.


End file.
